


Petrichor

by ValmureEld (InkSiren)



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Heartbeats, Hurt/Comfort, Medical, Sickfic, Whump, Worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:33:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkSiren/pseuds/ValmureEld
Summary: Set almost six years after the end of the game: Sam is free of the UCA and living peacefully with Louise in the mountains. They get visits from the others who have become, over time, a strange kind of family. At least once a year, all of them meet up and celebrate another year of Lou's life and Sam's freedom.This year, something very quiet, something left over from the Stranding, could make it their last.Rated M only because of Sam's mouth.
Relationships: BB-28 | Louise & Sam Porter Bridges
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> *shows up 6 months late with whump* 
> 
> Heyyyyy I've had Death Stranding since Christmas and I know it's been out since forever but I just finished it last night and I'm emotional okay.

They meet up in the mountains, at an outpost that, according to all official records, was destroyed by a storm.

Sam has been planning for weeks, his old Porter's instincts running him through every possible scenario, though one glance at a hematic grenade sitting above the fireplace has him grateful over and over it's managed to collect dust.

It's early morning and he steps out onto the wooden porch of the cabin he'd built for himself, and he closes his eyes, breathing the clean air all the way into the bottom of his lungs. It's more invigorating than his energy flask had ever been. He scans a slowly lightening horizon, and feels a little better to note the absence of snow clouds on the peaks.

He's gotten used to doing things without technology, and he swears his natural instincts have blossomed in its absence like senses compensating for a loss. Two years ago he couldn't have known if it was going to snow or not just by scent and something in his gut, but now that the safe rendezvous of himself and his daughter depends on it, Sam has gotten good at predicting dangerous weather.

The actual paper books documenting the old ways of navigation and survival that Heartman has managed to send him have helped immensely, but Sam likes to think at least some of his ability to thrive in the wild is inherent talent.

Running steps break his thoughts and he pretends not to notice as Louise comes to a sudden stop in the doorway before creeping one...two...three steps closer and pouncing to wrap her arms around his leg.

"Ah, no, have mercy," he says, raising his hands and turning laboriously around as she bursts into giggles. She lets go suddenly and pulls her toy out of the overly large bag slung across her chest, hopping back with brown eyes bright with mischief. She's pointing the long empty shell of a hematic gun at him, its once white surface colored brightly with paints Fragile had gifted Lou for her fifth birthday.

"I got you!" she announces, and he falls dramatically to one knee, clutching his chest.

"The betrayal," he moans, falling onto his side with a committed thud. He bites back an actual ow. Maybe he shouldn't have let himself fall quite so hard against solid hardwood.

"Daddy!" Lou says, in an exasperated tone he's certain she picked up from when she's heard Mama Lockne scold him.

"No Daddy here," he says, closing his eyes and feigning death. "You're on your own, kid."

She drops the gun and patters over to him, flopping into his side like he is her bed cushion. He wheezes, doubling up and wrapping an arm around her tiny waist to keep the pressure off his liver.

"Fuck, kid I need to beeathe," he laughs, sitting up and wrestling her into his lap. She squeals and kicks, but he wraps both arms around her and shakes his head. "Nope you're stuck now this is what you get for shooting your father."

He stands up and swings her around to his side, tucking her under one arm and marching them back into the house. She's still giggling and Sam cannot physically keep the grin off his face. He feels like his heart could burst and honestly out of all the ways he's died that way wouldn't bother him in the least.

“You got your stuff ready?” he asks, swinging her around to flop her onto her bed. She’s still laughing.

“Yeah!”

“Alright, get your boots and your coat on. I’ll get the pack together.”

Her expression falls. “I wanna walk this time.”

He shakes his head. “No way. Not for this one.”

“But I have spiny boots like yours now,” she argues, sitting up and frowning at him. “I can walk, I’m big.”

“You can and you are but the snowdrifts are bigger, trust me. Sometimes they come up to here on me,” he says, tapping just above his hip. “How tall are you?”

She stands on the bed and puffs out her chest, and he snorts. “Nice try kid, down here,” he says, and points at the floor.

She clambers down and stands on tip-toes next to him, but she’s only meeting the top of what would be his belly button.

“See? The snow would be up to your eyeballs. You’re riding with me for this year.”

The trek to the safehouse goes well, though Sam’s fingers are pretty frozen by the time he pulls them both up the last crest and worms his way from stomach to knees in the ice. The biggest change is Lou has almost doubled in size since the last time they did this and she knows a lot more words.

“What’s that? How far? A biote! Daddy a squirrel! Daddy more biotes!”

Sam used to have a hard time listening to people ramble but Lou he doesn’t even notice. She’s never felt like _company_. She’s felt like home since day one.

“We did it!” she crows as he huffs a great, steaming breath and gets to his feet.

“Yeah,” he wheezes, gathering his strength to trudge the last bit through snow up to his thigh in places. “We.”

He shifts his weight and she bounces a little in the pack, throwing his balance and forcing him to pause, bracing his boots in the snow. “Hey,” he says sharply. “What did I say about overbalancing me?”

She huddles in closer to his shoulders and wraps her arms around his neck. “Sorry.”

He pats her arm and starts to walk the last leg. “S’allright just don’t want us to fall. It’s not fun, trust me. You used to cry a lot when I fell.”

In less than an hour the others arrive one by one, Fragile blinking in with each member of what has become Sam’s very unlikely family. Mama Lockne is first, and Sam’s chill evaporates as she runs over to Louise and scoops her up, beaming. Deadman is next and last is Heartman, who needed another minute or so to come back from the beach.

There are hugs all around, general catching up, and Deadman has a new toy for Lou. “Things have gotten...fuzzy without Amelie’s beach being in charge anymore. The downside is we’re probably going to have to figure out a new way of staying connected and developing tech without the chiral network. The upside is sometimes we can do things like...bring cake.”

Mama Lockne smiles and sets a box on the table, opening the first cake Lou has ever seen. “You can have this after dinner,” she promises. “You’ll like it, here.” She winks at the little girl and scoops a daub of frosting off with her finger, letting Lou take it on her own. “Don’t tell your dad.”

Lou’s eyes go as wide as Sam has ever seen them at the taste and he laughs.

After dinner, Heartman and Deadman pull out various medical equipments from a box Fragile had been carrying, and Louise dutifully sits on the couch and waits for instruction. Far out from any form of mobile help, Sam has no other way to keep an eye on Louise’ progress as she grows, and considering the myriad of “shouldn’t have happened” surrounding her, it makes everyone feel better to let Heartman and Deadman combine their knowledge to give her an annual check up.

Sam is nearby, but he’s past the nervous hovering he’d been unable to quell the first couple of times. Louise is in her element, talking animatedly to both men who are just as animatedly responding. Sam smiles wearily and rubs the bridge of his nose, leaning against the counter dividing the kitchen from the makeshift living room.

Fragile approaches and stands next to him, working on a piece of cake. “You look tired, Sam,” she says softly. “How have you been?”

“I am tired,” he admits, crossing his arms and sighing. “Kid takes more to haul all the way up here than she used to. Especially when we first started.”

Fragile’s expression doesn’t shift with the joke, and she is still eyeing him with a deeply concerned expression. “It...looks like more than that Sam. You used to carry much heavier loads in much worse conditions, and I know you’re not working anymore but…” she shakes her head, gently reaching up a hand to touch his jaw and turn his head more towards her. “I think you should let the boys look at you as well,” she says gently. “Just to be safe. You’re still young and you’ve always had a strong body.”

He can hear the undercurrent of what she is saying and he doesn't argue because deep down he agrees. He is a genetic disaster, after all. In and out of the beach over and over since his birth, a walking allergen to the other side, and who knows what constantly porting and using chirilium was going to do to him long term? Especially now that his ability to repatriate is in question.

Hearing that the chiral network is breaking down without Amelie’s beach doesn’t surprise him and only falls in with everything else that is changing. Cryptobiotes had started evolving to crawl and burrow, and timefall happened less and less often. Even Heartman’s episodes weren’t always assured now, and Sam isn’t about to test the theory but he is pretty sure his ability to come back from the dead won’t be lasting. He’s fine with that, as long as it doesn’t backfire and cut his time with Lou short.

“Yeah,” he sighs, nodding. “I’ll ask when they’re done. Don’t want to interrupt.”

He smiles faintly as he watches Lou push buttons on Heartman’s AED, changing the display color and voice tone.

He and the two women catch up while Lou gets her exam, and when Deadman comes over with her beaming on his shoulders and a clean bill of health, Sam’s shoulders relax a little and he feels Fragile touch his arm before reaching up for Louise.

“Okay my turn!” she says, and she and Mama Lockne whisk Louise out of the room to give Sam some privacy.

Heartman watches the display with a furrowed brow as he puts away a book on pediatric health, and Deadman turns to Sam with concern.

“Sam?” he asks, the _what’s wrong_ plain in his tone.

Sam works his jaw and crosses his arms a little tighter. “Just...been tired,” he admits. “Fragile said I looked off, figured while I have you guys here...”

“Of course,” Heartman says, standing and placing his medical bag on the table. “Come sit down, how long has this been happening?” he asks, getting out a penlight and starting to look Sam over as they talk.

“Uh, more more recently. I’m fine otherwise but,” he shakes his head. “Kid wears me out.”

“Yes, children do seem adept at doing that,” Deadman smiles, trying to bring some levity as he pulls the stethoscope from around his neck. “Do you mind?”

“Isn’t that more Heartman’s area?” Sam asks, half a joke himself. Heartman chuckles but he goes into another pocket and pulls out a pack of sensors that he splays like playing cards in one hand.

“I’ve got something better.”

“Oh?” Sam raises an eyebrow, reaching out for the sensors, which Heartman hands to him as Deadman presses the bell to Sam’s chest.

“Breathe normal, I’m going to listen to your heart first,” he says.

“What are these?” Sam asks in a whisper, though Deadman still hushes him and moves the stethoscope to a different valve in his chest.

“They are echo-cardiogram sensors,” Heartman says. “Very advanced ones. I can do a full scan of your heart and we can look at it.” He beams.

“Like your creepy-ass scan back at the lake?” Sam asks flatly as Deadman moves the stethoscope again.

“I disagree whole-heartedly that it’s creepy, but yes,” Heartman says, smiling smugly at his own joke. Sam rolls his eyes. “You may not appreciate it, Sam, but I for one am dying to get a look at your heart. The physical training you’ve had as a staple in your life and the excellent history of vitals and readings we do have suggests you carry an absolutely pristine specimen in your chest.”

Sam snorts. “Seriously?”

“You might find it amusing but I’m being entirely serious,” Heartman says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’ve seen you run when you don’t have a hundred kilograms strapped to your back, and muscle like yours doesn’t develop without a strong heart to feed it. Besides, the heart of a repatriate cannot help but be intriguing to me.”

“Not sure I’m gonna stay a repatriate, or if I even am one now with everything else changing,” Sam confesses.

“Perhaps not,” Heartman agrees. “But even if that trait has gone it doesn’t change your history. Your heart is still yours and was once still the heart of a repatriate. Mine has started and stopped so many times it’s become mundane but yours was stopped almost before it had the chance to start and yet here you are. Fully grown and for a good portion of your life extremely healthy. People take for granted too often how much of a miracle it is that so many of us make it to adulthood in the first place. The strain of development is incredible, and yet common miracles go unnoticed all the time.” He shakes his head sadly.

“Okay so if my heart is so amazing why am I so damn tired?” he asks, nerves amping up his heart rate. Deadman is still listening and Sam can feel himself flush a little realizing his ability to hide is rather shot. “And why is my heart the first thing you guys went for? You really think I’m gonna have some kind of failure?”

The thought terrifies him. He can’t stand the thought of Lou being left like that. He knows she wouldn’t ever be alone, not with all these who love her, but selfishly he wants to see her grow up and he knows what it’s like not to have a parent.

“No, I have at present no reason to believe you are in danger of suddenly dropping dead,” Heartman says calmly. “Your color is good, and…” he takes Sam’s wrist. “Yes. Your pulse is quite strong. I only focus on your cardiac system first because your heart is your core,” he explains patiently, pulling a needle and drawing a blood sample almost too fast for Sam to realize what he’s doing.

He clicks the sample into a handheld scanner and watches it calculate while he talks. “If you are experiencing unusual fatigue your heart, or your blood may be able to tell us why and, I hope if it is anything serious, we can reverse the condition before you suffer long term damage.”

Deadman shifts the stethoscope again and the amount of time he’s spent listening has Sam even tenser.

“How many spots you gotta listen it only does one thing.”

“Four,” Deadman answers. “I need to assess each valve and last I heard you have four of those. We could have been done already but it takes longer when I have to listen for anomalies over your conversation.”

The blood test comes back normal. No sign of low iron or excessive chirilium or other toxins. No concerning levels of fat content or cholesterol.

“Well, that’s one theory scrapped, your blood is quite clean so I don’t believe this is an iron deficiency or that you’re at risk for an attack,” Heartman says, setting the scanner aside and picking up the leads. “You’ll need to let me get to your skin for this part, at least temporarily.”

Sam obliges and slips his tank top and Cliff’s tag over his head, letting Heartman place wireless leads at three points on his front and two on his back. Once done he puts his shirt back on and watches, slipping the tag back to rest against his sternum. He’s curious, despite himself.

Heartman doesn’t have a big screen like in his lab, but he does have a projection system and he maps the display onto the wall across from them all. Deadman turns the lights down slightly and Sam blinks, his eyes adjusting to a sudden flood of blue-white light displaying the branching of arteries and veins woven deep inside his chest. They remind him of the canopy of a great tree, the knot of muscle tying it all together the brightest point of all.

He watches his own heart beat and it’s an _utterly_ surreal experience.

Heartman is visibly delighted, and Sam glances over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Is it everything you thought it would be?”

He’s about to answer when they realize Lou has gotten away from Fragile and Mama Lockne and is peeking into the door, likely just fascinated by the sight of a glowing screen. She rarely sees them. Sam jumps up, intending to stop her watching any farther but Mama Lockne has already grabbed her and teased her about going out of their agreed hide and seek parameters. Fragile glances in with a worried expression, looking from Sam to the display.

“It is your decision, of course,” Heartman says, shifting his eyes away from where Mama Lockne is disappearing with Lou, who is straining not to be taken back. “But why shouldn’t she be here if she’s curious? There’s nothing untoward going on.”

“Don’t want her scared,” Sam mutters, sitting back down. “Or grossed out.”

“I see nothing repulsive here,” Heartman reasoned, gesturing to the harmless blue and white. “In fact, I’d argue this is the opposite of repulsive. This is her father’s heart. The very one you carried her against for months, the one she listened to in the bastardized womb Bridges crafted for her. It is quite beautiful, Sam. Why shouldn’t she know it?”

Sam feels torn, but he knows that Lou is smart, and what is most likely to scare her is the realization that he’s hiding something from her. He gestures, relenting. “Alright. If she wants she can be in here, but if there is something wrong you gotta tell me in private first.”

“Of course,” Deadman promises, touching his own chest before going to retrieve the women and Lou.

Lou is balanced on Mama Lockne’s hip when they return, and she’s immediately transfixed by the screen. Heartman gestures to take her and Mama Lockne hands her over. Lou is still watching, reaching out towards the branches of light. Heartman walks her closer and lets her touch the wall.

“There’s nothing to feel, this is just a larger version of what you see on my AED,” he smiles, tapping the display with his free hand. “Do you know what that is?”

Lou shakes her head.

“That is your father’s heart. Do you know what a heart is?” he asks, and she furrows her brow, pointing at the heart-shape on his AED. He smiles, and Sam can see the teacher’s delight in his eyes. If the world hadn’t fallen apart, Sam wonders if Heartman would have been a professor.

“Yes, very good that is a heart shape. But it is a symbol for the real heart each one of us has. Right here,” he says, pointing at his own chest, then at the center of hers. “It makes a thump sound if you listen very carefully for it, and it is responsible for pumping blood all around your body.” He gestures across her, and she watches him with rapt attention before looking back up at the display.

“It is what keeps us alive,” Heartman adds, turning his own attention back to Sam’s heart. “And your father’s heart is very, very good at what it does. It is the reason he can carry you all the way up this mountain and back.”

He reaches up, brushing fingers across the muscle of the left ventricle. “To answer your previous question, Sam, yes. It is everything I thought it would be. The muscular development is excellent and each beat is full and concise. As Deadman can attest, I’m certain the sound is flawless and likely quite rich.” He gestures to the EKG across the top. “No electrical problems either, it would seem. You have a perfectly formed, and conditioned, heart. No worse for wear despite your age or retirement, and it suits you beautifully.” Heartman gestures and the display blinks out, leaving the room momentarily quite dark until Deadman brings the lights back up.

Sam stands, crossing the room to Heartman and taking Lou as she reaches for him, her hand touching gently on his chest as she settles against his hip.“So what, then?” he asks, shaking his head.

“I have other theories, plenty of things we can try,” Deadman assures. “But this is good news. When your heart is good, the rest of you can follow.”

A crack of thunder sounds overhead and Sam shifts Lou against his side, glancing out of one of the small windows. “Damn, looks like we’re sleeping here tonight,” he says, sighing. Lou leans her head on his shoulder, and he reflexively runs a hand over her hair. “You guys able to get back okay? Probably shouldn’t hang around, in case this is a spike that’ll mess with the beaches.”

Fragile turns from the window herself, opening her mouth like she’s going to say something before she freezes, her eyes going wide. Sam frowns.

“Fragile? You okay?”

A tear strikes down her cheek, but she tries to school her expression, closing off the shock and shifting her weight and then giving a warm smile. “Mama Lockne, I’ve just remembered something I need to tell Sam. Do you mind?”

Mama Lockne takes the hint and goes to Sam, gently taking Lou, who doesn’t let go at first. Sam curses how smart she is sometimes, and he gives her a kiss on the forehead before letting her go. “It’s okay, go have fun.”

When they’re alone, he turns to Fragile.

“What? What happened?”

“Chiral spike. That’s timefall out there,” she nods, looking to the window. “I thought my dooms ability was quiet because the BTs were gone...but turns out they must just be fading. The spike…” she shakes her head, and Sam feels the hairs on his arms and neck prickle.

“Fragile, what did you see?”

“You’re tethered, Sam. To Louise. The way Mama was to her departed child.”

“What? What does that even mean?” Sam asks, a new fear surging at the thought that maybe he hadn't really saved Lou back at the incinerator. Maybe he’d just stolen some time.

“It means your life force has been sustaining hers, all this time.”

Deadman’s eyes go wide, and Heartman looks like he’s realized something himself. “That’s why you’re so tired,” Deadman says, gesturing. “You were hooked up to Lou when she was still a BB, and that bond continued even after you took her out of the pod.”

Sam feels lightheaded and he moves to sit, managing the low table near the couch instead of the couch itself. “So is she okay, or not?” he asks, his voice harsher than he intends.

“We will have to do some tests, figure out the nature of this bond, but I have no reason to believe Louise cannot survive if she were to be separated from you,” Heartman says evenly. “My concern is far more for you, my friend. A mother’s body can carry a child for some time, but eventually she must let go and the child must live independently. You, in essence, are still carrying Lou and your life force is sustaining her in a way that’s become wholly unnatural. Almost...parasitic. Louise is healthy and strong and more than developed enough to exist apart from any kind of life-support. Organic or otherwise. If we do not find a way to sever this however, I do not know what it will do to you. Or, if I’m honest, to her in the long run. If her body has too much support, the vital systems could atrophy and eventually severing the connection could prove fatal for you both.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any mistakes, tense slips, misspellings etc are entirely mine.


End file.
